Highs and Lows: TransRockies Day 2 Report

I knew that the Day 2 stage of our TransRockies adventure was going to be my first true test of the race, with the 1100m climb up and over Fernie Ridge testing both my legs and lungs, and the ripping descent to the valley bottom pushing my sissy descent skills to their limit.  Little did I know that the gut punch of the day wouldn’t come from some harrowing crash down one of the many cliff-cum-hills we slashed across while screaming down the face of the ridge, but instead would come post-ride, with the receipt of an email I knew was coming but was willing it not to with futile hope.

Waking to clearing clouds was a blessing after yesterday’s three-hour wallow in the greasiest, most abundant mud I’ve ever ridden in.  Stories of Tickle and Bushleague’s epic 5 days of enduring the same sludge during last year’s TR had me spooked that we may be in for the same suffering, but beautiful Mother Nature decided to smile upon us and reveal endless ranges of stunning mountains as the cloak of cloud peeled away.

Geurillas in the Mist

Today was the beginning of the big stages, punctuated by a big, grinding climb and a balls-out, fast-as-you-dare descent which lost all the altitude we gained in 35km of climbing over a mere 5km.  You can do the math.  To polish off what was a helluva ride in its own right, we finished with 35 km of rolling fire road, who’s repeated ‘little’ climbs left both Rumon and I well and goodly humbled by the Sparwood finish, 71km and 4 hrs after leaving Fernie.

I felt relatively strong again today, but the trepidation of venturing into the ‘unknown’ in terms of my capacity, big climb ability, and acclimatization was certainly weighing on my mind. I knew that Rumon was less than happy with his Day 1 performance, so I’m just waiting for the lion to wake up within him, at which point I’m going to make sure I can match what I know is a Cummins Turbo Diesel of an endurance engine.  As it turns out, we had a solid performance relative to our competitors, finishing 10^th among the elite field.  I know that we’ve both been talking about our motivation for racing here being for the experience, enjoyment, and camaraderie, vice competition, but let’s remember that both the Hurricane and Steamdonkey are former elite athletes, so we’ll never fully extinguish that competitive fire.  But, more than anything, it certainly was about the experience.  Hearing the hoots, whoops, and laughter of my teamie hot on my tail as we led a train of riders screaming down the face of Fernie Ridge sticks out in my mind, as does seeing Rumon ‘ride into his legs’ over the last 5km, as, sensing my fatigue, he went to the front, wound up the speed, and pulled his tiring partner to the finish.

I write today’s entry with a heavy heart, but at the same time, a renewed sense of desire and strength.  I started my journey down the road to TR as much for others, as for myself.  I’ve lost some of the most important people in my life over this last year and this race is as much a tribute to their will and spirit as it is to my own sense of adventure.  Each of them has taught me more than I will ever appreciate, and their departure from my life reminds me that in the precious time I have on this rock, I must live our loud every single day.  Today, sitting in the comfort of our motor home as we laughed with each other recounting the incredible day we had just lived out loud, I received an email telling me that a very, very courageous young man who I had the privilege of knowing, had succumb to his battle with cancer.  All I could do was hand the phone to Rumon and sit in cold silence, trying to reconcile the post-ride elation with the agonizing lump of pain and sadness that had suddenly swelled in my gut.  It’s Tuesday morning as I finish this entry – I needed the time to sort myself out before telling this story.  I will continue to ride my bike, and I will continue to hoot, whoop, and laugh with Hurricane, Tickles, and Bushleague, because I know that that is exactly what Jonathan would expect of me.  This ride is for you Jonny.  I’ll be listening for your laughter among the trees and rocks of these beautiful mountains today. Thanks for reminding me why we’re here.